


to be alone

by evevill



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 19:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19324951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evevill/pseuds/evevill
Summary: the aftermath of the gunshot wound. snapshots of eve's thoughts, life, and relationships.





	to be alone

When she wakes up in the hospital it's Kenny’s face that peers over her. He had traced her phone, found her bloody body, and got her help. Truly the star of the Rome clean up crew. 

Eve’s body aches, and she thinks for a fleeting moment that maybe she should have gone with Villanelle to avoid all this pain. Given in. Ate her spaghetti and succumbed to every illicit desire she’s ever felt, instead of clinging to an old, unlivable, life.

But that option is long gone now, as the doctors heal her wound given by the woman who said _I love you_ mere moments before a gunshot rang out. The bullet is left inside her because it’s too dangerous to remove and her injuries can heal just fine with it in.

She hates to think how pleased Villanelle would be that this little gift would be with her for life. _Till death do us part,_ Eve thinks.

Kenny waits for her in the hospital, but his anger towards Eve is palpable. He is furious Eve left Hugo, one of their own, out for dead. Furious she didn’t listen to him when he warned her in his home to not go to Rome. Didn’t listen when he told her to not put a hit out on herself. That she’s been completely irrational, impulsive, and focused on nothing but _her_ for months.

Nevertheless, he stays with her, and yet it seems to be only to deliver horrible news. Kenny tells her something so atrocious about Niko she feels sick. The dumb, floozy, yet innocent teacher, Gemma, is dead. She feels guilt thinking of Gemma’s devastated family.

She feels even more anger at Villanelle as to why she felt she needed to involve Niko at all. Eve keeps a running dialogue with the imaginary Villanelle in her head and internally yells at her. _You think you’re so smart by scaring Niko off, when if you had just looked up and realized by the time you killed Gemma I was already so far gone, my life so desperately centered around you, Niko would never have been a threat._

These types of thoughts consume Eve during her two restless nights in the hospital. She’s panicked of what her life will be now, how much danger she’s in, and, of course, Villanelle, always Villanelle. She realizes she misses what the last couple weeks had established between them. Having her phone number, knowing where she lived and what she was doing. The constant contact provided Eve some peace of mind.

Don’t be mistaken, she is furious at her for the bullet. Villanelle missed everything vital, clearly just wanted to leave her mark, but this is a major inconvenience to Eve. Not just physically, but Eve is frustrated mentally. The Villanelle she had built up in her head is now shattered. Eve had to admit her idealization of the killer, that Eve felt immunity to her dangerous tendencies, was horribly misguided.

She remembers how confident she was inviting the woman to her house, how that seems ridiculous now. She’s too proud to ever admit that to Kenny.

Eventually stitched and rested, Kenny takes Eve home. She knows he’s been part of the operation in Rome, and she can’t help herself before they part ways. Eve’s lost everything, Kenny already hates her, so she doesn’t give a fuck how fucked up her priorities are when she asks, “Do you know where she is?”

Irritation flickers in his eyes. “Eve, she-“ he pauses, and restarts. “A man called Raymond was found brutally murdered with an axe at your hotel room. He worked for The Twelve. Villanelle is most likely on the run for her life, and if she knows what’s best for her, will fall off the face of the Earth. You mustn’t look for her. MI6 will protect you as long as you leave her alone”

Eve feels the sickness in her stomach begin to rise and sputters for the right words, “Kenny, the man, Raymond. It was-“

“Don’t finish that statement. Don’t speak. Villanelle killed Raymond, took you, and then tried to kill you. That’s all you know. Okay?”

Eve feels complete exhaustion.

* * *

 

Seeing Niko, before he’s placed into witness protection is nothing short of devastating.

He’s a mere shell of a person, completely void of affection for Eve and can barely make eye contact with her.

It seems Niko can’t help but get one last retort in before slamming the door to their home forever.

He spats at Eve, “so did you fuck her before she shot you?”

Eve is furious at his question, mostly because of the hint of truth behind the words ( _Eve, I want you so badly. I think about this every night._ Villanelle had moaned into her ear less than a day before she shot her) and she refuses to dignify the accusation with an answer.

Her silence speaks volumes “That’s what I thought” he spats, closing the door on their marriage and the mess of what Eve’s life had become.

* * *

Whereas Niko was devastating, Eve is just drenched with guilt when speaking to Hugo. His recovery is slow, and Eve visits his flat to apologize.

Damn him for greeting her with cheeky banter and a small grin, but undeniably sad eyes.

Eve begins. “Hugo, I just want to apologize for Rome. The night before . . . I used you. I’m so sorry. And the next day . . . I know leaving you in the hallway was . . . unjustifiable.”

He looks at her, his greeting pleasantries now gone, and retorts, “Just want you to know I told everyone. Jess. Kenny. Carolyn. That we fucked while you had the ear piece in.” Eve stares at him.

“Really, Eve, you should be proud at your age, and no offense, your attitude, that somehow you managed the most fucked up threesome of all time. And both participants were 20 years younger than you! I mean I can’t think of anyone else who has quite as much game as Eve Polastri!” His voice is laced with sarcasm. “Did you always know you were into age gaps?” Eve hates how Hugo’s voice cracks with emotion somewhere in the middle.

Eve looks at him. She stands up to leave, whispers “sorry” one more time and as she exits his door he shouts behind her, “Oh, yeah! And in case it wasn’t clear! A giant and unforgivable fuck you for leaving me behind!”

* * *

Most of Eve’s nights are spent lost in thought. With no job, but MI6 keeping an eye on her, there’s not much to do but think.

Sometimes she’s consumed by the thought of the kill. Nearly vomits at the memory of blood. The loss of life in his eyes. The feeling of pulling the axe out of his shoulder. She can’t believe she has to live with this memory her whole life. 

Surprisingly, she feels almost nothing for the man that is now dead, but is mostly obsessive and revolted at her own actions. At how it didn’t need to happen that way. The manipulation by Villanelle. Which they were only put into that scenario because of the manipulation of Carolyn.

When she turned away from Villanelle, from this fantasy of Alaska together, she thought it was a bold proclamation of her agency. That she wouldn’t be played such a fool twice in one day.

But now on nights like these she can’t help but wish for her. To talk with her and explain to her how she is feeling. To hold her and protect her. For all Eve knows, she could have been found by the Twelve and be dead by now. She reflexively strokes her bullet wound, wishing for her attempted killers well being, and wondering if Villanelle thinks of her when touching her scar. _How fucking poetic,_ Eve muses.

* * *

Other times, Raymond doesn’t cross her mind at all, but instead she’s flooded only of thoughts of Villanelle.

She lets herself indulge in a fantasy every now and then and pretends that Villanelle never had a gun and the two ate spaghetti that night. 

The fantasy always goes the same way, Villanelle finds them a hotel, the two eat in silence, and Eve gets into the shower. Villanelle always joins her. Fucks her. Whispers in her ear that she loves her. And Eve comes on her own hand, alone in her apartment, and agonizes why things ended like this.

* * *

It hurts worse when she realizes she has no friends left. She calls Jess to ask about the baby but Jess provides no information.

“I’m really sorry Eve, it’s nothing personal, but I need to look out for my family, now. It’s just . . . it’s not safe being around you.” Jess hangs up, and Eve understands.

Eve’s heart aches. She suddenly thinks of Bill and is flooded with grief. She remembers a simpler time of Disney karaoke.

Carolyn occasionally contacts her to check in. She doesn’t trust her at all, but knows Carolyn is keeping her from getting into deeper shit with the Twelve. At this point, Eve is pretty sure Carolyn is the ringleader of it all- MI6, the Twelve, everything. It doesn’t matter though, anymore.

* * *

A postcard arrives. From Munich. It doesn’t have a name on it but just loopy handwriting that reads “ _Thinking of You. Missing You._ ”

Eve heart pounds. She figured after all this time Villanelle was dead or had moved on from her. She brings the postcard to her nose, smells it, and then holds it close to her chest.

She’s still angry with Villanelle, and all the choices made in Rome, but the ache she feels for her overwhelms any other emotion.

* * *

It’s both expected and unexpected when Eve walks into her flat one evening with the groceries. There, right in her entryway is a pair of black boots that had been taken off and considerately placed by the doormat.

She knows. She knows then that she is here. She drops the grocery bags by the door and practically runs into the kitchen.

Villanelle is waiting for her. Hair down, eyes with dark circles, and an unreadable expression.

“Eve” she whispers, standing up. Eve takes a step back, away from her. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she tries to say it with anger, but emotion cracks into her voice.

“I needed to see you.” Villanelle says, echoing the last conversation they had in Eve’s kitchen.

Walking closer to Eve, Eve can now take in the full sight of Villanelle. She does not look as strong as before, gaunt almost. She has let her roots grow dark, and her outfit is simple. Practical.

Still, Eve doesn’t let this new version of her cloud what she really wants to do. She takes strides forward until she’s a foot away and slaps Villanelle across the face. “Fuck you” she spats.

Villanelle pouts, the seriousness of the room dissipates a little and she whines, “It’s not like you died!”

“You ruined everything! You ruined everything for me. You made me a killer and then you left me bleeding” Eve’s anger is rising, her breaths coming in rough and sharp.

Villanelle’s eyes soften a little and she cups Eve’s chin and looks her dead in the eyes, “You need to forgive me or else you will really die this time. Listen to me. The Twelve have not forgotten about Raymond. From what I’ve been tracking and trying to learn, Carolyn is just holding them off from them killing you. They will hire someone, and take you out. They are waiting for enough distance between your employment from MI6 to your untimely death, to make it look less suspicious.” She says all of this mere inches from Eve’s face.

Eve leans into the chin cup but then pulls away, “Where did you learn this?”

Villanelle laughs, “I’ve been doing a lot of undercover dirty work. Can’t you tell?” She motions to her outfit and overall appearance.

Eve can’t help herself, while she’s still furious, she reaches her hand to briefly graze Villanelle’s clothed stomach, and she feels ribs. “I don’t like this look for you.” She drops her hand. 

“I don’t like it either” she admits. “But if we can get out of Europe together, we can eat and sleep and I can return to my former self.”

Eve doesn’t directly respond to these plans, in fact the prospect that the Twelve is coming to kill her really doesn’t faze her at all, and instead she asks, selfishly, bitterly, “Did you miss me?” 

Villanelle leans down a little, put her lips on Eve’s forehead and whispers into her skin, “I never once stopped thinking about you.” From this position she slides her hand up Eve’s shirt, finds Eve’s scar, and strokes it. “I’m sorry, baby.”

She lets her thumb stroke her for a beat, but then Eve pulls back, this time walking several steps back, “Well, yeah, you should be” she retorts.

This brief moment of intimacy evaporates and Villanelle tries to hide her irritation, “So, do you come with me?”

“I can’t trust you.” Eve responds.

“There’s really no other option for you, Eve”

Villanelle reaches into her pocket and pulls out a passport. It’s Canadian, has Eve’s picture and reads, “Esther Song.”

“I’m not forcing you into anything, Eve. I understand now you don’t like to be forced into situations. I could leave this passport here, and you could figure it out on your own. Or choose not to believe me. And perhaps die. Or . . . come with me” Her lips purse together, and while her voice is steady, the undeniable wetness brimming in her eyes makes Eve believe that amount of effort (and emotion) that has been put behind this plan.

Eve thinks, procrastinates her decision, and asks, “What name did you give yourself?”

“Florence Leblanc. I was thinking we could settle in the Quebec and I could use my French” she responds.

“And what happens when we get there?”

“We just… start over. Be together.”

“Be together? How would that work out for me? Pretty sure you’d still kill me, you know, the first second I disagree with anything you propose.”

Villanelle closes in on Eve, takes both her hands and places them on Eve’s biceps. She squeezes, hard. Painful enough that Eve starts to squirm. “Eve, what’s life been like without me?” she asks.

Eve thinks how she rejected the idea of running away with Villanelle months ago, and all it got her was losing her job, friends, family and sitting alone most days.

Anger starts to boil over in Eve. Life has fucking sucked without her, and Villanelle knows it. This time though, Eve’s anger doesn’t manifest in a slap across the face but a hard shake from Villanelle’s grip, she grabs her face, hold it between her hands and makes eye contact. Eve whispers, “Fuck you for asking that” before kissing her full on the mouth.

Truly, the kiss is no different than a slap across the face. The response from Villanelle is immediate, and it’s rough. Teeth, tongue, bites and moans- it’s obscene and the anger and desire between the two mix together.

Villanelle starts to pick Eve up in her arms and place her against the kitchen sink. Eve places herself between one of Villanelle’s thighs and starts to shamelessly grind herself against it, both moaning into each other’s mouths at the motion.

Eve’s close, if that says anything about how long it’s been. Just rubbing herself clothed against Villanelle is almost enough to send her over the edge. But Villanelle stops, removes her thigh from in between Eve’s legs and breaks their kiss, “Do you think for one moment I am going to let you come like that?” she breathes into her ear.

Eve whimpers and scoffs, both at the loss of contact and the irritation that Villanelle explicitly stated so clearly what she was trying to do.

Villanelle guides Eve away from the kitchen sink and pushes her to lie down across the kitchen table. She lies atop Eve, and Eve’s legs lock around Villanelle’s waist, and she kisses Eve, this time with less anger, and moves her tongue against Eve’s mouth slowly and messily.

“Please, use your mouth on me” Eve moans against her, moving her hands to try to push Villanelle’s head down.

Villanelle smiles into Eve’s mouth and instead moves her lips to Eve’s ear, and takes a hand teasingly to the hem of her pants, “Is that how you imagine me, Eve, when you touch yourself?” Villanelle asks.

“Yes” Eve chokes out, arousal making her eyes tear up.

Villanelle moans and slides her hand into Eve’s pants, past her underwear, and gasps. “You’re so wet.”

Eve says nothing but bucks her hips into Villanelle’s hands.

“Do you think about that night? When I helped you relax? When you listened to me beg for you?” Villanelle asks, slipping a finer inside. 

“All the time” Eve gasps.

At this, Villanelle removes her hand from Eve’s pants and starts to kiss down Eve’s still clothed body. In one swift motion she removes Eve’s pants and underwear. Looks at Eve, who shamelessly spreads herself for Villanelle, and Villanelle mummers “Beautiful” before putting her lips against Eve’s sex.

Eve cries out, threads her hands through Villanelle’s hair and thrusts into her mouth. It’s not long before she comes on her tongue, tears spilling out of her eyes.

* * *

She might never fully trust Villanelle, but she’s decided she’s willing to learn to navigate the murky waters. They leave the next morning for Canada and Eve barely packs anything.

It’s a strange thrill knowing how much has changed in the last 24 hours. Villanelle eventually carried her to bed, and they got to taste, touch, and explore every part of each other. Kisses against matching scars, hands desperately running through each other’s hair, and late night confessions of love and desire whispered into each other’s ears.

They are far from healed, far from complete forgiveness, but they only have each other now.

It’s funny, really, how the closest Villanelle has come to dying is by Eve’s hand and vice versa, but yet they now can only rely on each other for survival.

Eve is pretty sure that _till death do us part_ is still applicable to their relationship, but feels an overwhelming optimism that it no longer will be by each other’s hand. _Fucking poetic_ , she thinks once again, looking into an uncertain future where, gratefully, the only certainty is _her_ , Villanelle.

**Author's Note:**

> season three is really gonna be that messy, emotional bitch. how the heck they gonna navigate all these conflicts. can't wait!


End file.
